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Updated: May 28, 2025
The scene represented Margarita's garden: "Gentle flow'rs in the dew, Be message from me ..." As she sang these first two lines, with her bunch of roses and lilacs in her hand, Christine, raising her head, saw the Vicomte de Chagny in his box; and, from that moment, her voice seemed less sure, less crystal-clear than usual. Something seemed to deaden and dull her singing...
Mark her majestic fabric! She's a temple, Sacred by birth, and built by hands divine; Her soul the deity that lodges there: Nor is the pile unworthy of the god. Or, to describe her in a softer style with Rowe, The bloom of op'ning flow'rs, unsully'd beauty, Softness, and sweetest innocence she wears, And looks like nature in the world's first spring. Adieu, varlets four!
"Here be woods as green As any, air likewise as fresh and sweet As when smooth Zephyrus plays on the fleet Face of the curled stream, with flow'rs as many As the young spring gives, and as choice as any; Here be all new delights, cool streams and wells, Arbours o'ergrown with woodbine, caves and dells; Choose where thou wilt, while I sit by and sing, Or gather rushes to make many a ring For thy long fingers; tell thee tales of love, How the pale Phoebe, hunting in a grove, First saw the boy Endymion, from whose eyes She took eternal fire that never dies; How she convey'd him softly in a sleep, His temples bound with poppy, to the steep Head of old Latmos, where she stoops each night, Gilding the mountain with her brother's light, To kiss her sweetest."
But now I see thee sailing low, Gay as the brightest flow'rs of spring, Thy coat of blue and jet I know, And well thy gold and purple wing. Borne on the gale, thou com'st to me; O! welcome, welcome to my home! In lily's cell we'll live in glee, Together o'er the mountains roam!
Milton must have been familiar with it, for in Paradise Lost he says: "Adam the while Waiting desirous her return, had wove Of choicest flow'rs a garland to adorn Her tresses, and her rural labours crown, As reapers oft are wont their harvest-queen." Often customs of this sort are practised, not on the harvest-field but on the threshing-floor.
The sweetest of our poets, the most humorous of our many writers cannot keep the thought of death and futility away. His loveliest lyric begins "Oh, fair maids Maying In gardens green, Through deep dells straying, What end hath been. Two Mays between Of the flow'rs that shone And your own sweet queen? They are dead and gone." There is the burden "dead and gone." Another singer chants to us thus
"What a queer girl she is!" said one of Carlotta's friends in the stalls, almost aloud. "The other day she was divine; and to-night she's simply bleating. She has no experience, no training." "Gentle flow'rs, lie ye there And tell her from me ..." The viscount put his head under his hands and wept. The count, behind him, viciously gnawed his mustache, shrugged his shoulders and frowned.
Feebly and interruptedly the terrified boy began; the wild continuous noises of the moaning voices from without sounding their awful accompaniment to the infidel philosophy of his song as he breathed it forth in faint and faltering accents. It ran thus: Ah, Glyco! why in flow'rs array'd? Those festive wreaths less quickly fade Than briefly-blooming joy!
"With tender woe sad memory woos back time, And paints the scenes when youth was in its prime; The craggy hill, where rocks, with wild flow'rs crown'd, Burst from the hazle copse or verdant ground; Where sportive nature every form assumes, And, gaily lavish, wastes a thousand blooms; Where oft we heard the echoing hills repeat Our untaught strains and rural ditties sweet, Till purpling clouds proclaimed the closing day, While distant streams detain'd the parting ray.
She touched the chords of her lute in sweet and wild melody, and sung the following ode: EVENING Evening veil'd in dewy shades, Slowly sinks upon the main; See th'empurpled glory fades, Beneath her sober, chasten'd reign. Around her car the pensive Hours, In sweet illapses meet the sight, Crown'd their brows with closing flow'rs Rich with chrystal dews of night.
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